


You Had to Go and Get Yourself Killed

by sherlockian4evr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Annoyed John, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Bottom!Sherlock, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Switched Power Dynamics, Eventual Vampire John, Frottage, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Rough Sex, Rutting, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Souled Vampire(s), Top John, Vampire Sherlock, light bloodplay, rated for later chapters, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: John was annoyed to be left behind at the crime scene. He was more annoyed when his friend came home dead.Beta read by Sherlock1110.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My dear beta is convinced I've lost my mind with this one. I suppose I have, but I've wanted to write this for a long time.

John was still fuming even as he made tea. Sherlock had run off chasing after some clue without telling him. Now all the doctor could do was wait and worry. He was already in a mood to tear into the detective. When said detective finally slunk back to the flat, pale and silent, John took one look at him and exploded, "Great, just great! Not only do you run off without so much as a text telling me where you were going, but you had to go and get yourself killed."

"Oh, please, can we skip the lecture? I didn't set out to get changed into a vampire." Sherlock threw himself down on the sofa and pulled a blanket over his head. "Would you mind terribly turning off some of the lights?"

"Turn them off yourself, you undead git." John sat in his chair and sipped his tea angrily. "Serves you right," the doctor muttered under his breath, then silence filled the room.

Not half an hour later, Mycroft appeared, a small entourage in tow. The detective groaned. Of course his brother already knew about his new status as a vampire.

"Hello, baby brother."

One minion went to work installing a mini refrigerator, then loading it with pouches of blood. The others set about installing bulletproof glass, heavy curtains and metal doors with substantial locks.

"I would berate you for your carelessness, but seeing as you're already dead..." He sighed. "When do you plan to tell Mummy?"

Sherlock peaked out from under his blanket. "How about next Halloween?" He flipped the blanket back over his head. "Sod off, Mycroft. Haven't you heard the old saying? Let the dead rest in peace."

"Obviously being dead hasn't improved your disposition." Mycroft's minions filed out of the flat. "Good evening, John. If he should give you any trouble... call me."

John gave the government official a thin smile that faded away the moment Mycroft had left. The doctor heaved a sigh. "At least the issue of feeding has been taken care of. I hadn't thought of that."

"Idiot." Sherlock sat up and gave the doctor a scathing look. "That would have been most people's first concern. They would have taken off running for fear I'd drain them of blood."

"Yeah, well, I'm not most people. I was just annoyed with you for getting yourself killed the night before I... Nevermind." John broke off what he was saying and looked away.

Sherlock's eyes gleamed preternaturally. "The night before you what?" He moved with a speed that startled them both and stood, hovering over John. "What were you going to say?"

"It's nothing." The doctor looked away. "It doesn't matter now, anyway."

"John, look at me," the detective... the vampire ordered.

John couldn't ignore that voice. He'd never been able to and now it was even more impossible. The doctor looked into Sherlock's shimmering grey eyes.

"What were you going to say?"

Sherlock's words danced along John's spine and he couldn't resist them at all. "You got yourself killed the night before I was going to tell you that..." The doctor took a deep breath and leaned towards his flatmate. "I'm in love with you."


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as John made his revelation, Sherlock realised what he had done. He had mesmerized or spellbound John or whatever it was that vampires did. He staggered back, but put more power into his movement than he had meant to. The vampire flew back and slammed into the wall, sliding down it and slumping on the floor.

The doctor had realised what had happened as well. "Bloody Hell. So that part is true." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, still under Sherlock's influence enough not to feel the anger he suspected he should be feeling. "How are we supposed to know what's true and what's just myth. I mean, I've seen a few vampires before, from a distance, but..."

"Mycroft," came Sherlock's reply as he stood and brushed away imaginary dirt from his clothes. "He knows."

"Then why didn't he stay and tell us!" John fumed.

The vampire looked around. He spotted a book on top of the mini fridge. Walking over, he picked it up. "Your existence as a vampire," he read the title aloud. "How tedious." He tossed it to his flatmate.

"What? You want me to read it?!" John glared at Sherlock's back, feeling much more himself. "Typical."

"Please, John." Sherlock was careful not to meet his friend's eyes. He didn't want to risk whatever had happened before. "I need to think. It's all too much."

The doctor sighed and sat down in his chair, resigned to a long session of reading. He opened the book to its table of contents.

_1 Your Basic Needs_   
_Feeding_   
_Shelter_   
_Sun Safety_   
_2 Separating Fact from Myth_   
_Facts_   
_Feeding Methods_   
_Methods of Death_   
_Spellbinding_   
_Strength and Speed_   
_Sun Sensitivity_   
_Turning Others_   
_Myths_   
_Enthralling_   
_Garlic_   
_Holy Relics_   
_Invitation Required_   
_Mirrors_   
_Silver_   
_Soullessness_   
_3 Your Significant Others_   
_To Tell or Not to Tell_   
_The Temptation to Turn Others_   
_4 A Unique Opportunity_   
_5 Laws_

John's eyes were drawn to a section in Chapter 2, Methods of Death. He didn't like that heading and, besides, wasn't Sherlock dead already? The doctor opened the book to that section and began reading.

_The use of the word 'death' is imprecise at best; however, for the duration, it shall be used to indicate the cessation of meaningful existence. As such, this section describes the ways in which you, as a vampire may die. The traditional methods include burning, staking and decapitation. It should be noted that all of these methods are indeed quite effective. In addition, any attack on the..._

John read the section in its entirety. It didn't take a genius to understand what he had just read. In fact, he could have rephrased the whole thing in just a few words: A vampire is safe from all disease, but anything that physically damages the body beyond repair kills the vampire. It was really very simple.

The doctor looked over to where Sherlock lay, sprawled on the sofa. He'd just have to make sure that never happened to his friend, as he'd always done.

God, Sherlock was even more beautiful than before.

With a jolt, John realised that he had confessed his love to Sherlock not an hour ago and they hadn't even discussed it. Was his friend trying to spare his feelings or was the whole thing so insignificant that the other man didn't care? John told himself he wasn't being fair. He knew they had much bigger concerns, Sherlock was now a vampire, after all. They had to deal with that first and foremost.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock rolled onto his side so that he was facing the room from where he lay on the sofa. He stared at John, all previous concerns about hypnotising him or whatever completely forgotten about. The vampire found himself mesmerised by the pulsing of his flatmate's carotid artery. Sherlock fancied he could hear the rush of blood through the artery, that he could smell it. He sat up, still staring at John. He licked his lips, tasting the doctor on the air. He breathed in deeply, scenting him.

The doctor had kept reading from where he had left off because the next section, Spellbinding, seemed like it might be relevant to what had happened earlier. The more he read about it, the more he realised how vulnerable he would be to Sherlock if he let himself. If they made eye contact, his friend would be able to convince him to do and say just about anything. Sherlock had been hard enough to resist before. Now he would be impossible. So, no eye contact during serious conversations. John chuckled. The whole thing would give the detective an enormous advantage when interviewing witnesses and suspects. They wouldn't stand a chance.

John felt Sherlock's eyes on him and looked in his direction, but didn't meet his eyes. "What?" Something about his flatmate's regard made him shiver.

The vampire blinked, coming to his senses. "I think I need to... feed." He deliberately looked away from his friend lest he accidentally entrap him with his gaze. He'd have to look into that and understand it, but for now he had to satisfy his growing thirst.

"Oh," the doctor said quietly, awkwardly. "Maybe you should try the blood Mycroft left for you?"

Sherlock nodded, even as he berated himself for an idiot. He crossed to the mini fridge and took out a bag of blood. As he looked at it, he felt his fangs drop down and his thirst grew exponentially. The vampire bit into the bag and began drinking the chilled blood, savouring its thick, rich flavour. He knew instinctively that it would taste even better if drawn from a living breathing fount, but rejected that idea intellectually.

Fascinated, John watched the whole thing. The look on Sherlock's face... God, it was a look that the doctor had fantasised about whilst alone in his room at night pleasuring himself, but in his fantasies, he had been the one to put that look on the detective's face. He'd never in his wildest imaginings thought it would be put there like this. Was blood drinking the equivalent to vampiric sex? If so, what would it be like to watch Sherlock drink blood from an actual human. John felt himself getting jealous at the idea. What would it be like for Sherlock to drink from him. Hell, could he drink from someone without killing them? The doctor didn't know. John found he almost didn't care, so long as he could be the cause of that look on Sherlock's face. Presumably, the book Mycroft had left would explain the details. His hand tightened its grip on the book as Sherlock, well, 'came' wasn't the right word, but John didn't have one better. He leapt from his seat and rushed upstairs. He had to take care of a problem of his own that had just arisen.


	4. Chapter 4

John stood in the middle of his bedroom, cock aching, hands trembling, and tried to calm himself. Sherlock had always been a temptation for him, with his lithe body and soft pink lips. Now, the detective seemed to have an irresistible pull about him. The doctor didn't know what it was. Maybe that blasted book would explain it, but that wasn't much help in dealing with it.

Pressing his palms to his eyes, John tried to deny his body's craving, but it was no use. He slid one hand down, tucked it beneath the waistband of his jeans and palmed himself. God, but vamipre Sherlock was even more gorgeous. He was rock hard. John withdrew his hand and opened his flies, pulling himself out.

There was the whisper of sound then Sherlock stood there in front of the doctor, his head cocked to the side. "Ah." He turned his gaze on John's hand and what it was doing. "I was correct." He looked up and caught the doctor's gaze. "This isn't the first time, though, is it?"

The doctor felt the answer ripped from his throat. "No."

"How long have you wanted me?" The vampire's silver blue eyes drilled into John's soul, demanding an answer.

"Ages. Forever." The doctor swallowed hard and tried to look away from Sherlock's eyes. He couldn't. 

"Is it just sexual, John? Or is it something more?" The detective took a slow, deliberate step closer to him. He made an abortive move towards him with one hand.

"I... Sherlock..."

"John?"

The doctor's voice cracked as he blurted out, "I don't know. I think... I think I've been in love with you for months." If he hadn't been spellbound by Sherlock, he would have felt ridiculous standing there, saying such things whilst holding his still rigid cock in his hand. As it was, there was a part of him that wanted to flee in shame. "Sherlock... please."

The vampire broke eye contact with John, but he stepped in close, even as the doctor took a step back. "You should have told me," he breathed into John's ear. "Why wait until now when I'm this?" Sherlock gestured at his own body. "I don't even know what I am, not really. What is a vampire, John? Can I love you without breaking you?"

The doctor's heart leapt. Sherlock's words... Did they mean what he thought they meant? "I don't know. I don't care." He leaned into the detective's chest, his face upturned. "I. Don't. Care." He pressed his lips to Sherlock's, his mouth falling open as his tongue dipped out to lick along the seam of the vampire's lips.

Sherlock shuddered, his mouth falling open and allowing John access. He could hear the beating of the doctor's heart, the rushing of his blood in his veins. The scent of John filled his nostrils. Their kiss became heated, their mouths sliding against one another. The vampire worked his way along John's jawline, down his throat and over his jugular. He bit there gently, not breaking the skin, but longing too. He pulled the doctor's hips against himself and rutted against him, taking delight in the hiss of pleasure that John let out.

The doctor felt the fabric of Sherlock's trousers against his erection and his breath hitched. He felt light headed with need. Even as his mind screamed danger at the vampire's proximity, his body craved more. He thrust mindlessly against Sherlock until he felt himself coming in great shuddering spasms.

Sherlock shook as he came, his teeth pressing into John's neck just a bit more, but still not breaking the skin. He wanted to, desperately, but he didn't. He pushed John away from himself, throwing him across the room, and fled.


	5. Chapter 5

John cleaned himself up, then went in search of his flatmate. Sherlock was nowhere to be found. It was actually quite a relief. He saw the book about vampires discarded on the floor. He bent and picked it up, sighing. He really needed to read it from cover to cover. From out of its depths fell an envelope. How had he missed it before? The envelope wasn't sealed. The doctor tucked the book under his arm and, after a moment's hesitation, opened the envelope. In it was an official looking document. He scanned over it, then sat down in his chair, hard. What he held was a license. A license for Sherlock to make him, John Watson, into a vampire. He felt like he had been punched in the chest.

What the hell had Mycroft been thinking issuing such a thing? He sat and stared at it, disbelieving, for quite some time. It was difficult to take in. Finally, anger overtook his shock and he pulled out his phone. John was determined to get answers from Mycroft, be he the British Government or not. He pressed speed dial for the government official and waited impatiently for him to answer.

"Ah, John. What has my brother done now?" Mycroft asked smoothly.

"Nothing. It's what you've done." The doctor's voice was filled with barely suppressed rage. He wanted to reach through the phone and throttle Mycroft. 

"You've found the license. I can hear it in the tone of your voice. Has Sherlock seen it?" Mycroft already knew the answer to that. If his brother had seen it, he would be here in person to confront him.

John shifted in his chair. "What the fuck are you playing at? What gives you the right? Maybe I don't want to be a vampire, have you considered that?!" Why would he want to be one?

Mycroft smiled thinly, though the doctor couldn't see it. "My brother is... attached to you, John. I dare say he's in love with you. Tell me, what happens when the two of you are working a case and you get mortally wounded? Will he simply let you go?" He listened to the doctor's heavy breathing. "We both know the answer to that. And if you should somehow manage to grow old and your heart should give out, will he be content to let you die, even then?"

"No," John whispered. Sherlock would never let him slip away. He could see the truth of it.

"In case you haven't read the entire book, it's illegal for a vampire to turn a human without a license. We must control the vampiric population. I simply saw fit to prepare for the inevitable." Mycroft twirled the pen he was holding. "John, consider this. It might be preferable to go ahead and take action now rather than wait on some traumatic event. It is conceivable that you could get killed whilst separated. Sherlock would never survive that. He'd find his own end shortly thereafter."

The doctor swallowed audibly. "I'll... think about it." John rang off in a daze. He didn't know what to think or how to feel. How could he. This wasn't something normal people had to face. He turned the pages in the vampire book without looking at them. Him a vampire? Voluntarily? He gave himself a shake and forced himself to really look at the book he held. If he was going to entertain the idea, he needed to know what he was getting himself into. He'd read the book and then make his decision. He would either allow Sherlock to turn him or he would run as far away from Baker Street as it was possible to get.


	6. Chapter 6

John had moved to his bedroom. He lay on his bed, the vampire book on his chest, and stared at the ceiling. He'd read the book from cover to cover and its contents were circling around in his head. He knew he should be thinking about the situation logically, but he couldn't make himself do it. He was thinking on an instinctual level, from his gut, and he already knew his answer. Of course, it was the answer to a question Sherlock hadn't asked.

The doctor rolled over and stared off into space. Harry would be furious if he became a vampire, but she'd long since lost the right to comment on his life choices. He didn't have any other family who would care.

John thought about the implications, both the pros and cons. He could still work as a doctor. He might even be able to be a surgeon again. John wasn't too thrilled with the prospect of drinking blood, but the book said that would change and the government provided it these days. If that changed, he could survive off of little drinks, he wouldn't have to kill anyone. The only vampires who did were already psychopathic when they were made. He sighed. Without making the change, he'd never be able to keep up with Sherlock on cases. Obviously, his answer still hadn't changed.

John got up and went downstairs. To his surprise, Sherlock was in the kitchen fiddling with something under his microscope. The detective didn't look up, but his posture shifted, indicating that he knew John was there.

"Sherlock, we have to talk," the doctor said simply.

Sherlock grunted. "I don't see why." He refused to look up.

John pulled out a chair and sat. "Why did you run away after... what we did? What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid." He looked up from the microscope and glared at John with his glittering silver eyes.

The doctor moved close and cupped Sherlock's cheek. "Liar."

Sherlock breathed in his friend's scent deeply. It was intoxicating, heady. "I don't want to hurt you." He turned his head and kissed John's palm, then licked it. The vampire shivered from the pleasure.

"Then don't." John pushed the heavy microscope aside and crowded closer to Sherlock. The detective froze in place, afraid that he would injure his friend if he tried to move away. The doctor took advantage of Sherlock's lack of movement and bent to kiss him on the lips. "You want me. I want you. That's all that matters."

The vampire backed away this time, fast, leaving behind a toppled chair. "What are you trying to do?" He should be able to observe, to deduce, but he was having trouble coping with his heightened senses.

John gave himself a shake. This had been the wrong approach. He let his expression grow serious. "We need to talk." He pulled the folded license out of his pocket and held it out for Sherlock to take. "It's a license," the doctor explained as the vampire took it from his hand. "It gives you permission to turn me, if you want."

Sherlock looked down at the paper he held in his pale hands, the many implications of it becoming instantly clear. He could see the future stretched out before him on two divergent paths. Down one, he stood over John's grave, his own existence meaningless to him. Down the other, time passed them by as they shared eternity together. He knew which path he could face, the one with John by his side. "Do you want this?" he asked, capturing John's gaze and willing the truth from him.


	7. Chapter 7

The words were torn from John's throat, "God yes. I want this, Sherlock. I want to be by your side forever."

"It won't be forever," the vampire cautioned John. "Even vampires find their end eventually, but..." He gave a shudder of desire. "If you want this..." He didn't wait another second, his impulsive nature hadn't changed just because he had been turned. Sherlock moved faster than the doctor could see and took him in his arns, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of his throat. He sucked, drawing out the salty, wonderful fluid that carried with it life - John's precious blood. This, this was ecstasy. It wasn't like when he had been on the receiving end of the process. He could hear the doctor's heart beating loudly in his ears. He could feel the swell of John's metaphorical heart with love for him, a love that the vampire returned with all his being. Sherlock felt himself growing impossibly hard with desire, but that wasn't the point of this endeavour.

When John's heart started to slow and he hung limp in Sherlock's arms, the vampire withdrew his fangs from John's throat. He used them to rip a gash in his wrist and forced it to the doctor's mouth, determined to get enough blood into him to complete the change. Sherlock remembered how he had resisted, how the vampire that had changed him had had to force the blood into him. Not so, John. The doctor closed his mouth over the vampires wrist and drank deeply. He pulled so hard, sucking, that it stopped Sherlock's preternatural beath. Slowly, they sank to the floor together in a heap.

Soon, Sherlock felt drained, weak and John was still drinking from him. This wasn't how it had happened with him. He had struggled and fought to get away. The vampire who had made him had let him go, laughing and pointing at him and Sherlock had staggered away. He had wandered the streets until he had found a safe place and collapsed as his body completed its transformation, as he had died. The vampire had to force John's mouth away from his wrist. The doctor still strained towards it.

"John. John!" Sherlock gasped. "I can't give you anymore."

The half crazed look faded from the doctor's eyes and he disentangled himself from his friend. He stood up and looked around himself, dazed. Finally his eyes fell on Sherlock. "Why are you still down there?"

The detective rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his bloody wrist. "You drank too much. I'm weak." Oh, how it galled him to admit it.

John bent and lifted his maker in his arms and carried him to the sofa where he placed him gently. "I'll get you some blood." Going to the mini fridge, he took out a bag of blood and carried it to Sherlock. "Drink." Even as he handed the bag to his friend, he could feel the change creeping over him, but he shoved the sensations away.

Sherlock drank from the bag, whilst he observed John. His friend seemed to be in far better shape than he himself had been when he had first been made. He decided that it must have to do with the amount of blood that John had consumed compared to the meagre amount that he himself had been forced to drink. Fascinating.

John grimaced in pain.

The vampire discarded the empty blood bag. "Lay down with me whilst the transformation completes," Sherlock said, holding his shaking hand out to John. "Please."

Nodding, the doctor lay alongside his maker and closed his eyes as his body died.


	8. Chapter 8

When John had well and truly died, he decided to shower. His vampiric body took some getting used to. It was strong and swift as he had witnessed in Sherlock. After he felt clean once again, he got dressed, then he realised he was hungry. Thirsty? Yes, thirsty. He made his way to the living room and stood in front of the mini fridge, realising he was no longer repulsed by the idea of drinking blood. Taking out a pouch, he started drinking, then he became aware of Sherlock eyes on him. He finished the pouch of blood, then binned it. He found the heat of lust now filled his veins, fuelled by the love he felt for the detective.

Sherlock found that, to his vampiric eyes, John had grown even more handsome. He wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him... fuck him or be fucked by him. Anything, so long as they could finally be together in that way. He licked his lips and stepped towards the doctor. It was strange, John didn't look pale now that he had consumed blood. He looked just as golden as always, just as captivating. The detective found himself reaching out to cup John's cheek.

The doctor covered Sherlock's hand with his own. He found his friend just as beautiful as always, perhaps more so. Sherlock was still pale and his eyes glittered with desire. "Are you still afraid you will break me, now that I'm your equal?" John asked, his voice low and husky.

"No," came the detective's reply, firm and sure. "I want this. We both want it."

John lunged forward and took Sherlock in his arms, pressing their lips together in a brutal kiss. He lifted the detective in his arms and walked them towards the wall where he slammed him up against it. Sherlock let out an "Umph," but didn't struggle, so lost was he in the kiss.

The doctor pinned Sherlock to the door with one arm and a leg. "If you don't want this, tell me now."

"I want it," the detective breathed out in a fluttering gasp.

John ripped off Sherlock's shirt with one motion, his vampiric strength making it laughably easy, then he started working on the detective's trousers. Soon he had Sherlock naked from head to toe. "You are so fucking gorgeous. We've wasted so much time getting here. I never imagined we would have to die to reach this point." The doctor resumed kissing Sherlock sloppily. He kissed him everywhere, lips, eyes, cheeks, jaw, neck... Ah, when John's lips paused over the detective's pulse point, he lingered, biting hard and drinking just a tiny drink before he moved on to kiss along Sherlock's collar bone.

"John. John!" the detective cried out almost helplessly, so racked with pleasure was he from John's lips alone. "Please, John, your clothes. Please, take them off, too."

The doctor released Sherlock who slid to the floor, his knees seemingly made of rubber. John swiftly divested himself of his clothing, then he looked down at the gorgeous vampire at his feet and licked his lips. He bent and scooped Sherlock up in his arms and hefted him up. Instinctively, the detective wrapped his legs around John's waist, his arms around John's neck and held on tight. The doctor carried Sherlock to the downstairs bedroom and threw him on the bed, slamming the door behind him with a kick of his leg.

Suddenly, the detective wondered just who might be the one in danger of being broken and he was eager to find out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind, this is completely consensual.

John fell to the bed on top of Sherlock. He placed a hand to either side of the detective's face and kissed him deeply as he rutted against Sherlock's hip. "You gorgeous, maddening creature. I can't believe you're finally mine." He nipped at the other vampire's lip, drawing blood.

"Yes, yours," Sherlock said, breathless. "I always have been. You just didn't... mm, yes... know it. Oh John." He tried to bring his hands up to grasp at the doctor's hips, but John caught them and pinned them over his head against the mattress.

"Gonna fuck you, gorgeous. Gonna make you beg for it." He licked a line along Sherlock's neck, causing the detective to shiver. John didn't know where the words were coming from, but the desire...it had been there for ages now. "Tell me you want it."

"I do, John. I want it, want you. Want you inside me." He lifted a leg and hooked it over the doctor's thigh. "Please."

"Hold onto the headboard," the doctor ordered. "Don't let go," he growled. In response, Sherlock's cock twitched where it was pinned between them. John moved down the detective's body, licking and kissing him the entire way. When he reached Sherlock's thighs, he spread the detective's legs and looked down at him with a predatory gaze. The detective was hard. So was John. The doctor thought he was harder than he had ever been before. He didn't know if it was because of his vampiric nature or if it was because of the gorgeous beauty laid out before him, the one he loved so madly.

John wondered, suddenly, if these preternatural bodies of theirs needed the kind of preparation a mortal body required. He wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's cock and pumped it a few times before letting it go. The detective whined his protest, but the doctor ignored it. He ran his fingers over Sherlock's bollocks, then down over his perineum. Finally, he circled the detective's hole with his finger.

"John... Need you," Sherlock moaned, his grip tightening on the headboard.

The doctor plunged his finger into Sherlock's hole and the detective arched up off the bed, moaning deliciously, definitely not in pain. John added a second finger and a third almost immediately and began fucking Sherlock's hole with them.

"John. Fuck. Please." The detective writhed on the bed, wanting, needing more.

"Can you take me, pretty thing, pretty little slut, just like this? Hm?" John dragged his fingers over Sherlock's prostate, causing him to cry out in surprised pleasure.

"Yes. Yes, yes. Please," Sherlock begged.

That was all it took. The preternatural beast in John took over. He threw Sherlock's legs over his shoulders, lined his hard, throbbing cock up with his entrance and pushed his way in. It was so tight and, yes, warm. He hadn't been expecting that from a technically dead body. "Sherlock... Feels so good. Gonna fuck you now." With that pronouncement, John set up a frantic, unforgiving pace. It was beyond anything he could have sustained as a mortal.

Sherlock cried out, his voice ringing throughout the flat. He felt like he was being split open, but it was glorious, because it was his John doing it. It didn't exactly hurt, not like it would have before he died, but it was overwhelming. It was also incredibly pleasurable. He was certain he was going to go mad from the wonderful joy and pleasure of it, being taken by John.

The doctor wanted Sherlock to come first. He needed it. He brought his left hand around and began stroking the other vampire in time with his thrusts. Sherlock's cock felt good and right in his hand. "You're going to come for me, you pretty slut. Come for me. COME FOR ME!" he ordered.

Sherlock's grip on the headboard tightened and the wood creaked under the pressure as his orgasm overtook him. He shook, tears leaking from his eyes, and called out John's name over and over on a loop.

Triggered by the beautiful sight of the detective's sweet agony, John went rigid, his own orgasm taking him. He shot his come deep into Sherlock's willing body. "So beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

When John calmed a bit, he looked down at his friend's debauched body. He slowly trailed his eyes up to Sherlock's face where he saw tears staining his cheeks. The detective didn't offer to move, just stared at the ceiling in a daze. Suddenly, John realised how brutal he had been, how demanding. He lurched back, slamming into the bedroom wall, then he fled the room. He dressed quickly and left the flat, determined not to return.

Behind him, Sherlock slowly came back to himself with a satisfied smile on his face. When he looked around, there was no John. He checked the flat but it was empty. When he tried to call the doctor, John's phone rang from beside his chair. Sherlock didn't understand what had gone wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

John stalked down the pathway, not paying attention to where he was going. He could feel the sun against his exposed skin. It didn't hurt, but it felt far more intense than he remembered it ever feeling. He could almost feel himself burning under its onslaught. He had been incredibly foolish for darting out of the flat without protection during the height of the day. Just as he was about to step into a cafe to get out of the sun, a black sedan pulled up next to him. The doctor gave a sigh, stopped where he was and shook his head. He should have known Mycroft would find him.

The back door of the car opened. "Get in, John," came the government official's inevitable order.

With resignation, the doctor climbed into the car. As it pulled away from the kerb, John felt a sense of relief, not at being picked up, but at being in shelter from the sun. "Mycroft," he acknowledged with a nod.

Mycroft offered John a tube of sun lotion. "You should probably put that on. In case you haven't read the book I left for Sherlock, the sun won't actually kill you, but you will sustain a terrible sunburn if you're out in the sun for more than a few minutes." He smiled thinly when the doctor took the sun lotion and started putting it on.

"I actually read the book, ta," John said brusquely.

"Of course you have," came Mycroft's reply. "I see Sherlock didn't waste any time in turning you. I had thought he'd wait for a melodramatic moment to do it, perhaps while you were bleeding out from a gunshot wound or some such."

"Nice, that. I do love your little remarks." John opened and closed his left fist. "Let's cut through the crap. What do you want?"

"This time, John, I want only your welfare and that of my brother, of course. What sent you running from the flat, hm? Shall I try to deduce it?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

"Sod off. It's none of your business." John set his jaw firmly in defiance.

With a twirl of his umbrella, the government official disagreed, "Of course it is." He looked John over from head to toe. "Ah, I see. I suppose this means I can no longer call my baby brother the virgin. That, too, was only a matter of time. That he would lose his virginity to you has long been obvious. So why the sense of guilt I get from you Doctor Watson?"

John turned and looked out the window, swallowing hard. "I made a mistake," he said so softly Mycroft could barely hear him.

"A mistake... You think you did something against my brother's wishes. Of course, you're mistaken. No one can make Sherlock do anything against his will." The government official barked a laugh. "Trust me, John, I've tried to bend him to my will on numerous occasio-"

"You don't know anything!" John shouted, his voice loud in the confined space. "I hurt him. I did. I made his first time... rough and I enjoyed it. I hurt your brother. What I did is unforgivable." By the end of his short speech, his voice had dropped to a whisper again.

Mycroft blanched. It was one thing to know his brother was no longer a virgin. It was another matter entirely to know even this detail. He gave himself a shake. "If I genuinely thought you had hurt my brother in any way or done anything against his will, your head would no longer be attached to your body. You shall be returned to Baker Street and I shall be going with you. I expect my brother will be waiting for you. In fact..." The government official's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. "That's him now, no doubt wanting me to find you. I'll let him know we're already en route."

It was John's turn to blanch. He didn't want to face Sherlock. He knew what he had done and nothing Mycroft had said changed anything. It didn't matter. He didn't have a choice.


	11. Chapter 11

When John entered the flat, it was to find a surprisingly calm consulting detective/vampire perched in his leather chair with his hands folded together in his thinking pose. Such calmness was, quite honestly, the last thing the doctor had expected to find upon his return. He had expected to be confronted with anger and invective, a demand for him to move out or even a physical attack, anything but this. It was with uncertain steps that he moved across the room.

"John," Sherlock said simply, not uttering another word. Instead, he scanned the doctor for clues as to what had caused John's earlier flight. When he couldn't discern the reason, he frowned fiercely. Only John could be so unreadable and only when sentiment was involved. It was infuriating. After all this time, he should be better at deducing John.

The doctor went and sat in his own chair, not knowing what to say or where to look. He finally settled on staring at his hands. "Listen, about what I did... There's no excuse for it. I hurt you and I didn't care. I fucking enjoyed it." He barked a laugh. "I even told your brother as much. I have no idea why I still have my head." He had honestly expected Mycroft to pull a sword out of that umbrella of his and decapitate him right there in the car.

Sherlock snorted. "Because you're an idiot." How could John think he hadn't wanted everthing that had happened?

That brought John's head up in a sharp motion. "Because I'm an idi... What?! Sherlock! What I did was unforgiveable!" His face burned in shame.

"What you did was amazing. It was just what I wanted, just what I needed," the detective said shyly. "Don't you think I would have stopped you if I had wanted you to?" Sherlock shot from his chair to kneel before John in a blink. He bit his lip and ducked his head as a blush crept over his preternaturally pale face. He wasn't used to being so open about himself. "I definitely liked it, in case I haven't made myself clear. I want you to do it again. Often."

John's mouth fell open and he stared down at his friend. "You want me to lose control and... and take you like some sort of wild beast." Because that was what it had felt like to the doctor, like he had gone mad.

"You didn't lose control, not really, or if you did, it was in a way I'm completely compatible with." Sherlock's blush deepened. "I liked being held down and taken. I liked feeling you force yourself into me like you owned me." He ran his hand along John's arm. "Maybe I wouldn't have liked it before we became what we are, but I do. Please, John, don't take it away from me now that I finally know what I want. Please." The look he gave John was completely open and imploring.

Sherlock's phone buzzed, but he ignored it. This discussion was far too important.

"Can I think about it?" John asked, still conflicted. He was used to the idea that one treated one's lovers with tenderness and respect, not with mad, raging, uncontrollable... brutality. Was this something in their vampiric nature that had to be accepted? He didn't know.

John's phone rang. He growled under his breath as he looked down at it. It was a call from Greg. "Hello. Yes. Where?" It was a case that would no doubt appeal to Sherlock and it would give John some much needed time to think. "Yes, we'll be there. Text us the address."


	12. Chapter 12

When John and Sherlock arrived at the crime scene, Sally greeted them from across the street, "Freak! Over he..." Her words trailed off as she caught the preternatural gleem of the detective's eyes. She fell back a step, looking to John for an explanation, only to see the same strange gleam in his eyes. "Lestrade!" she shouted, then turned and ran towards where the rest of the team was gathered.

Sherlock chuckled and exchanged amused looks with John. "This should be fun. If that was Sally's reaction, I can't wait to see Anderson's."

Before John could respond, Lestrade appeared. "So it's true," the DI said. You've both managed to get yourselves killed. I shouldn't be surprised. At least you're still walking about." He shook his head in annoyance. "I can't believe this." He turned and paced away a few steps, then turned and walked back. "Just don't pull any of that vampire crap on me or my team, understood?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," the detective replied. His eyes lit up as he saw Anderson approaching. "Hello, Phillip," he said, popping the trailing P. He didn't normally call him by his first name, but he simply couldn't resist it this time.

"It is true," Anderson said in his obnoxious voice. "You're both really vampires. Lestrade, you're not considering letting the likes of them on the crime scene. The scent of blood would drive them wild. They'd destroy all the evidence. Hell, they'd probably drink straight from the corpse."

John shuddered at the thought of drinking from a dead body and had to turn away to hide the expression on his face.

"As ever, you show your extreme ignorance and tightly held prejudices. Neither I nor John drink blood directly from humans, certainly not dead ones. We drink only donated blood," Sherlock said sneeringly.

"Yeah, well, if you couldn't get it, I wouldn't want to be alone with you for any amount of time," Anderson shot back.

The detective's lip curled in disgust. "I assure you, you would be quite safe. Your blood hardly qualifies as human."

"Lestrade!" Anderson whined.

Greg rubbed the back of his neck. "Shut it, the both of you. Anderson, go get coffee for the team. Sherlock, John, come on and take a look at the scene. Put those enhanced senses of yours to work, yeah?"

It didn't take long for Sherlock to identify the killer and the motive. "I just need to talk to the sister," he informed Lestrade.

When he was face to face with her, he didn't even have to sham to get the information he needed. Sherlock simply spellbound her. He locked gazes with her and asked if she had killed her sister and why. A confession came rolling off her tongue under his preternatural gaze.

"Is that even admissible in court?" Sally asked the DI. "I mean, couldn't that be construed as coercion?"

"Nah," Greg said with a shake of his head. "There's precedence. It's perfectly admissible. Spellbinding isn't absolute. It can be fought by the strong willed. It's considered nothing more than an intense questioning technique. Not that I would want to face it myself."

John smiled at Sherlock in admiration. "Amazing," he breathed.

"Not really," the detective demurred. "You could have got her confession."

"Yeah, but the rest of it, how you immediately knew she had done it and why." John moved close and went up on tiptoe. "It was fucking sexy," he whispered into Sherlock's ear.

The taller vampire blushed bright red against unnaturally pale skin. His trousers suddenly felt far too tight. "Doctor Watson, do you promise to ravage me when we get home?" he whispered back.

The doctor grinned wickedly. "I promise to fuck you brutally, to within an inch of your non-existant life." All doubt had fled his mind at the detective's words. He knew what he wanted, what Sherlock wanted and he would give it to him.

Sherlock grasped John's hand and they left the crime scene in a blur of speed.

Lestrade looked in the direction they had gone. "They were bad enough before. I'll never get them to stay around long enough to provide statements now."


	13. Chapter 13

Together, John and Sherlock raced down the pathway. They moved faster than any cab could have carried them. At Baker Street, they fairly flew up the seventeen steps to the flat.

Mrs. Husdon peered out of her doorway to see who was there, only to shrug. She decided whatever she thought she had heard must have been her imagination.

Upstairs, in their bedroom, the two vampires' hands flew rapidly, removing their clothes in a blur. The moment they were both nude, John flung Sherlock to the bed. "God, look at you." The doctor bent and kissed Sherlock roughly, his hands going to the detective's wrists and pinning them above his head. "What have you done to me, Sherlock? I'm completely mad for you. I've always loved you, always wanted you, but this... I can't control it."

"I don't want you to. I've already told you... told you that." Sherlock gasped as John bit him on the neck and drank from him. "It must be s-something th-that's not in that book."

John ground their erections together roughly. "You read it?"

"Mm, yes. Now fuck me," the detective ordered, pressing their lips together and biting at John's lower lip. He groaned when the doctor flipped him over bodily and positioned him with his arse in the air. The sexual tension in the room was so thick that Sherlock could barely stand it. He pushed back, seeking contact with John's cock, wanting it inside him immediately.

"Patience, 'Lock." John lined his cock up with the detective's unprepared hole and thrust in without warning.

Sherlock keened a satisfied wail as he was filled completely. It felt delicious, the impossible stretch and overwhelming burn. He pushed back to meet each of John's thrusts. "More. More, more, more."

"Jesus, babe. Oh, fuck." The doctor wrapped an arm around Sherlock's torso and pulled him up so he could achieve a better angle. John pounded into him, being sure to stroke across Sherlock's prostate with every thrust. He was more intent on taking the vampire detective apart piece by piece than chasing his own pleasure. If need be, he thought he could keep up his pace for an indeterminate amount of time. The sounds Sherlock made were maddening. John suddenly felt the need to come, but he sought to stave it off for his boyfriend's sake. He bit down on Sherlock's shoulder, his fangs slipping in smoothly.

Sherlock bucked and writhed, keened and wailed. This time he could feel that John was in some semblance of control and was taking him apart deliberately. His head lolled back on the doctor's shoulder as the sensations washed through him. There was the slow draw of blood at his shoulder where John sucked, the bruising pressure of his preternaturally strong hands holding him against the doctor's body and the relentless, glorious pounding of John's cock inside him driving him ever closer to orgasm. "John, now. Pl-please. I need to come now."

At those words, the doctor pulled harder, drinking deeper from Sherlock's shoulder. At the same time, he moved his left hand around to grasp the detective's cock and stroke it roughly. The combined actions had them both coming, but it was unlike before. Yes, there were the body shaking orgasms that seemed to go on forever, but there was something more. There was a touching of their minds, a sharing of their thoughts and emotions. John's love flooded into the detective, golden and warm. Sherlock's bright, crystalline love for the doctor crept into every corner of John's being. They hung there for several seconds that seemed an eternity, then they both collapsed to the bed with cries of ecstasy.

Several minutes later, John threw an arm across his eyes. "What the fuck was that?"

"Pleasurable?" came Sherlock's one word reply.

John uncovered his eyes and looked at his vampire lover. "That may just be the greatest understatement of the century." After a pause, he asked, "Do you think it will always be like that?"

The detective considered. "With only two data points, I hesitate to make a prediction about the future; however, I suspect that... connection will only get stronger over time." Sherlock looked worried. "Is that okay?"

"Okay? Babe, that's incredible. I never dreamt I could be so close to you." John, ignoring the sticky mess that covered them, wrapped himself around Sherlock. "I think it's the most beautiful thing in the world."


	14. Epilogue

The next day, Mycroft and his people showed up at 221B.

"What's this about, brother mine?" Sherlock asked.

"I received an urgent phone call from Mrs. Hudson. Apparently she found it difficult to sleep last night." Mycroft smiled smuggly. "My people are here to rectify the situation with appropriate sound proofing for your bedroom."

John's blush lit up the living room. Even Sherlock managed to blush. Just a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://shippingintothenight.tumblr.com).


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